


Surf Ninjas, Sickness, and Sleepytime Tea

by fic_in_a_time_of_cholera



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sokka's is acts of service, Zuko's love language is words of affirmation, mine is beta-ing literally the night a fic is sent (with love to Darcy), sokka does engineering and love-hates it, this is self indulgent fluff that I wrote while on pain meds because heck surgery, zuko is an art major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fic_in_a_time_of_cholera/pseuds/fic_in_a_time_of_cholera
Summary: In which Sokka is sick, Zuko is flailing, and Katara does not have time for this.
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 143





	Surf Ninjas, Sickness, and Sleepytime Tea

“It’s official,” Sokka croaked. “I’m dead.”

His boyfriend rolled his eyes. “You’ve eaten an awful lot of chocolate pudding for a dead man.”

Sokka reached for the front of Zuko’s t-shirt with a limp hand. “You don’t un’erstand. If I don’t un-die soon, Professor Piandao will kill me. Himself. With his sword. Did’jou know he has swords?”

With a sigh, Zuko rose from his crouched position by their couch. “You’re a TA, love, not a cardiac surgeon. Piandao’s freshmen will survive one day off from CAR or CAS or whatever acronyms they have you learning in Chem-E.”

For a moment, Sokka looked wounded, but a hacking cough overtook him before he had the chance to correct Zuko. The shorter man turned away, the shadow of a smile on his lips. Sokka had spent at least an hour ranting about computer-assisted design (or CAD, as he and his engineering buddies insisted on calling it) over tea the week prior, but he looked so cute when he was indignant that Zuko couldn’t help himself.

“You’re… you’re _laughing _at me!”__

____

____

Zuko grinned to himself. “I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”

Sokka huffed. “You don’t get to laugh about my voice when I’m sick. ‘S the law. Your voice does the sexy raspy thing even when you’re not five thousand degrees Fahrenheit, and—”

Zuko felt a blush creeping up his neck. He cut Sokka off with a damp towel to the forehead before he noticed. “I’m not laughing at your voice; I’m laughing because you’re a hypocrite.” Sokka leveled another glare at him, this time from under the edge of the towel. Zuko resisted the urge to kiss his germy boyfriend.

“No, you didn’t let me finish! You’re a very well-meaning hypocrite, but Piandao, the actual professor, can handle his own lecture for one day. You’ve been killing yourself to help these freshmen pass—it’s your turn to be taken care of. I promise your students will be fine.”

Sokka grumbled, but reluctantly let Zuko finish tucking him into their couch. He really had been burning the candle at all ends; between grading papers, supporting Zuko through, well, being Zuko, and taking eighteen credit hours, it was a miracle he’d stayed on his feet through October. 

As he navigated the maze of blankets and discarded tissue boxes scattered across their apartment floor, Zuko tried to figure out what to do next. He hadn’t been sick in years. He vaguely remembered the feeling of Uncle smoothing his sweaty hair off his cheek when he caught a cold in high school, but Sokka was in worse shape than Zuko had ever been. Should he go to the hospital? Fuck, what if Sokka needed to go to the hospital?

‘That’s it,’ he thought. ‘I’m calling Katara.’

Katara did not sound happy to hear from him.

“I have Organic Chemistry in ten minutes, Zuko,” Katara said in a clipped tone. “You have ten minutes.” Somebody was typing on the other end of the line, which only set Zuko more on edge. 

“Um, well, it’s just that Sokka’s really sick and he keeps coughing and I don’t know what to do or how to take care of him, and he works so hard and he so deserves to have somebody help him get better, and I just thought since you’re pre-med you might know what to do.”

The typing abruptly stopped. Zuko held his breath—maybe he shouldn’t have called.

“Zuko,” Katara said, “that’s really sweet.” Zuko’s shoulders fell from where they’d apparently been tensed. Still, he hesitated before speaking.

“Do you know what to do?”

“I mean, I’m a nineteen-year-old with a few microbiology credits, but I can take a guess. Does he have a fever, or is it just a head cold?”

Zuko squinted at the paper where he’d been keeping records. “Uh, his temperature was 100.7 degrees an hour ago, but I don’t know if that’s a fever.”

“It’s a low one, but it’s definitely a fever. Give him lots of fluids—tea with honey is good if he’s congested—and make sure he rests.”

Zuko put the kettle on, inhaling deeply. “Okay. Okay, thank you. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Katara’s grin was audible through the phone. “Not unless you’re willing to watch _Surf Ninjas _with him, and even I don’t love him that much.”__

____

____

Zuko let out a throaty laugh. It was going to be okay.

“I’ll let you get to Orgo now. Sorry—for calling so randomly, I mean—I just…”

“It’s okay, Zuko,” Katara said softly. “Sokka’s lucky to have you. Text me if you need anything, alright?”

“Alright.”

—

Sokka was sprawled on his side when Zuko emerged from the kitchen, mugs in hand. The damp towel had slid off his forehead and into the depths of the couch. “D’you call Katara for me?”

“Yep. We’re digging your grave after dinner.”

Sokka coughed. “You’re not s’posed to be funny. Jokes are my thing.”

Zuko quirked his good eyebrow at the sweaty, delirious man before him. Swaddled in blankets with arms outstretched, Sokka almost looked like an oil painting. He made a mental note to enlist him as a model next semester.

“You have to drink a lot of fluids, and you’re on bed rest until you can walk in a straight line again.”

He was met with a gasp. “Tea?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Zuko stammered. “I made some of Uncle’s sleepytime tea, the stuff he keeps in the back. I thought it might help you sleep this whole thing off.”

He set the mug down on the coffee table, far enough from the edge that it wouldn’t spill on the carpet. Sokka made grabby hands at him.

“You’re such a good boyfriend,” he slurred. “You take such good care of me, an’ you’re so sweet an’ pretty. You’re like...” Sokka’s face lit up with a grin. “You’re like… you’re like the opp’site of fluid dynamics.”

Zuko carefully swept Sokka’s hair away from his face and sank into the corner of the couch. “I just want you to be okay. You worried me when you came home from class all sweaty and disoriented.”

Sokka burrowed his face into Zuko’s lap. “M’sorry babe, I didn’ mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, love. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Zuko gently guided Sokka's head into his lap and began running his fingers through sweaty hair.

“If you want to drink that tea, I can try to braid your hair. It’s been a bit since Azula last let me, but you can’t be comfortable with it sticking to your face like that.”

Sokka hummed in agreement. “This ‘s nicer than grading papers.”

Zuko looked down at the man in his lap and felt a surge of affection. He knew that tomorrow, there would be portfolios due and emails to answer, but in that moment, he was perfectly content. Sokka wriggled onto his back and looked up at him with big blue eyes.

“Hey, Zuko?” he said hopefully.

“What’s up, love?”

“Can we watch _Surf Ninjas _?”__

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would be very cool, if anyone is so inclined. I'm a day out from surgery and thus contractually obligated to ignore my schoolwork, so... yeah.
> 
> All my love to Darcy, my splendid beta reader. Thank you for making this legible.


End file.
